Pirate Cow Doesn't Approve

"The average man is a conformist, accepting miseries and disasters with the stoicism of a cow standing in the rain. 

Some people lay awake at night dreaming of what cool super powers they wish they had. Me? Not so much. I wonder why in the heck I was cursed with the weirdest super power possible. I am a cow magnet. How that is useful in any facet of my life except for interesting blogging I might never know. Yes, you read that correctly. If there is a cow in a 50 mile radius of me its ears perk up, it moos to alert the other cows, they get together in a huddle and plot how to best mess with me. It's true. Don't believe me? Read my other posts about animals. I'm also a sheep magnet, but that story has already been written.

My most recent cow encounter was slightly more threatening. It involved very hungry herbivores, a very unhelpful father, a farmer with a horrible sense of humor or a flare for the dramatic, and me. Poor, innocent me. It all began in a city named Emporia. We surveyed a field for a few hours then realized we needed to survey a different field as well. We trudged through the woods and ended up in a sea of cow pies (turds for those unfamiliar with the term) with not a cow in sight. Of course it wouldn't stay that way. As soon as we located the area in which we were going to dig a few holes (in order to test for anything significant) it happened. 

I swear cows have a 6th sense and know when I'm around. It turns out the cows were very hungry and a farmer had just plopped a giant bale of hay in the field. Did he do it in the field where the cows were grazing out of sight? No. He did not. Did the put it in the adjacent field so the cows would not need to feel the need to scare the humans to death? No. He did not. Where did the farmer put the hay? 100 feet away from me. Where was I? I was in between the ONLY fence opening and the delicious hay the cows desperately wanted. 

Oh look cows in the distance. Aren't they nice looking?

Umm... you guys got over here really fast. PLEASE stop screaming your war cries. 

As a girl who grew up in suburbia I am not used to farm animals and I have no idea how to distinguish a menacing cow from a regular mild tempered cow. All I could think about was how I get angry when I'm hungry and how an animal 5x my size must feel when a person who regularly eats beef and really enjoys it stands in their way. My Dad on the other hand grew up on a farm and had frequent cow encounters, therefore he had a built in meter of cow mood judgement that he for some reason never taught me. Jerk.

I was calmly digging my hole in the ground enjoying the scenery and how nice the day had become. This all changed in an instant. By some other what I can only call a 7th sense the cows became fully alert and began a stampede towards me. Yes I do mean stampede. Cows can run alarmingly fast. When over ten 500pounds hungry/angry animals start to yell at the top of their lungs and run as fast as their knobby kneed legs can take them RIGHT AT YOU... yes you a 110 pound red headed person armed only with a shovel and a mean roundhouse kick. I did my best to stay calm, really I did. My voice was slightly high as I said "Dad....DAD...they're coming right at us."

Warning: Objects in picture are closer than they appear

My Dad grunted and barely even gave the stampede a second glance. I can only assume this was because he was deaf. I have never heard a chorus of 10 plus cows before, but it was no library appropriate noise. This was something that rivaled a monster truck show or major sporting event. I began to back away and grip my shovel slightly more tightly. I also wished it wasn't older than I was. In my head I tried to plan out a scenario of where I could run, but my options were electric fence or sprint across fields for long distances while carrying a large man who had no idea why I was running. This was all in my head of course.

I chose the HOLY CRAP DAD WHAT DO I DO? Why? Because I was frozen. I had stared into the eyes of the leader. The feared Pirate Cow. Known only in legend, but never before seen until now...at least by those who lived to tell the tale. I even managed to snap a picture. I can only imagine that he let me do this because no self respecting leader pirate cow is afraid of cameras or small fake red heads wielding shovels in a very non-ninja like manner.

Note the eye patch...

Luckily the war cries had stopped by now. We were in a stand off. I've never been in a stand off with roughly a dozen cattle, but it was an interesting experience. I would stare, one would get bored, another would stamp its feet, one would step forward and challenge me with its giant eyes. I stared back with what I hoped was a look that oozed power and dominance, but I doubt that succeeded. My Dad quickly became grumpy and decided that having a staring contest instead of digging holes was not productive. 

He turned around and raised both arms and yelled at the cow standing in front of pirate cow in the picture above, which I assume was the body guard. This cow was scared of the moustached man and responded by blowing boogers out of his nose. Interesting defense mechanism, but I digress. The second my Dad's back was turned the cows all stared at me. Not one. Not two. Every. Single. One turned their heads slowly and stared right at me. I am not lying or exaggerating. 

This is how I felt. A combo of this:

And this:

My Dad was blissfully ignorant of the sudden developments. I attempted to dig holes and keep an eye on the cows who were clearly plotting my death. The edged slightly closer every time I turned my back and it was disconcerting to see them larger and larger each time I looked back. We finally finished our holes, which luckily weren't large enough for the cows to hide my body in. That might seem like an extreme reaction, but hunger does bad things to you as Snickers showed thru their hilarious series of commercials. 

My Dad thought it was hilarious that I was very agitated over a group of cows who acted angelic when he looked at them. I briskly walked toward the fence as the cows grouped behind me and matched my pace as they headed for the bale of hay aka dinner. Did I mention this bale of hay was directly in the path to the car? I'm just lucky I guess.

The moral of the story? Don't mess with hungry cows. Don't rely on farm bred fathers to save you from pirate cows that are trying to plot your death. Watch out for projectile boogers from cow noses. It's a real threat. 

"Moo may represent and idea, but only the cow knows." --Mason Cooley